Chapter Text
Follo's Pov
After a long week, Follo was beat. The new Giver that literally fell from the sphere has had them running around training and putting them in even more life threatening situations. Even the Raiders have turned their attention towards us for some reason.
Finding out how amazing their power is, it made Follo jittery, holding onto his own hammer close, he can feel the buzz of anima, it's right there, he just needs to activate it!
Or that's what he always tells himself.
Every mission that passes. He gets the feeling he's close but it just never responds to him. Not rewarding the hard work Follo has put into his hammer… or, well, his hammer now.
Letting out a sigh, Follo's thoughts were so jumbled tonight. Doubting sleep would come easy. Maybe a walk would help clear his mind enough to sleep a few hours tonight.
Moving quietly, sure coming and going at night isn't unheard of, especially when half the adults around go out drinking at bars. Just the thought of running into someone and having to talk, even just exchanging greetings. Settled uncomfortably under Follo's skin, keeping his head down. Hoping if there comes a moment he passes someone, they think he's tired and heading to grab a drink from the kitchen.
There are some people who don't take that, and one glance can tell something is wrong. Walking into the lobby, Follo praises whatever border guardian there is that Semiu has already called it for the night. Desk sitting empty. She's so awesome and useful with her Vital Instrument.
And then, there is Follo.
Who is slipping out of the base, in the middle of the night, because he can't muster up enough usefulness to help clear trash beasts…
Ground stank hits him like a brick and all he can do is shake his head with the blunt force of it as it takes a moment to decipher the bad smells. A small breeze moves the air around and Follo knows the general bad smells of the trash piles around HQ, this smell though, is from no man's land to the west. More chemically and electronic. Not the worst, but also not the best.
It takes a minute but the bad smells are soon in the back of his mind, knowing the smell, the origin, and living around it his whole life. Follo can stand being outside and not be affected by the rancid smells. Of course in polluted zones he still needs to wear a mask, gotta take care of his lungs.
Always saddened to hear of passing’s due to pollution. Unfortunately it happened just recently to someone all of HQ knew.
Follo kicks a can that had blown into the road. Damn Sphere and everything it throws down onto us!
No, not everything. Rudo had been thrown down. They had treated him like the rest of the stuff they threw down, Trash.
After getting that bit out of his system, his legs turn and walk between the trash piles, they were all the same. Storms don't reach out this far so the trash had been shoved to the side allowing easy travel for vehicles and people.
Following a set path, one Follo knows well. Left at the pile with a bicycle sticking half out, another left when a tire embedded into the ground sits at a split. A good resting spot for hot days, but it's nighttime so no need for that.
Taking another 10 minutes of walking before he gets to closing in on his target. An old arcade machine sticks out of a pile, never moves, never works, bent in weird places, Follo wished it worked. Gris has pointed it out saying its called; Nova Drift. Addictive to play if one is found in working order.
But taking a sharp right, another minute of walking and finally, the spot!
An older couch sits at the top of a trash pile, raggedy and halfway falling apart. No clue if it landed perfectly like that or soemone if the past packed it up there and stabilized it to be perfect for a rest to whoever would find it.
The climb up the trash was easy, having taken this small hike and climb at least once a month since Gris showed him the spot a few months after he joined the cleaners. It was after a hard day, so Gris had patted him on the back and told him to follow.
Another sigh falls from his lips as he ceremoniously falls onto the sad sack of cloth and foam being held together with hopes and dreams.
Taking his hammer out, holding the item onto his chest. Making sure it always stayed close.
The handle was metal welded on metal. Though it bore a few dents and nicks, it stayed strong with the scars. Depending on the mission he'd wrap the handle. Make sure one wrong movement wouldn't cause a nick to his gloves or hands underneath. If anything happened to his hands, how would he be of any help? Plus it helped the grip, he was embarrassed the first few times he used it in training it had slipped from his hold, leading to a series of new training on grip strength, for that to never happen again.
Follo cared for his object like everyone did, though he had only been with the hammer for 2 years. Some people had activated theirs within days. The hammer even had prior care and love from an old friend before Follo inherited it. Or at least, he hoped they had cared and loved for it.
It didnt matter, that was Follo's job now.
Maybe that's why he had been overthinking tonight, Tomme had given him the weekly rundown. She keeps tally on jobs of everything, noting the trash beasts movements and quirks. What Follo always loved but dreaded to hear. Tomme had told him how many beasts he has assisted in immobilizing before a Giver could land the final blow. Telling him it was great numbers and he should be proud, and he was!
Just, that was it.
Follo couldn't exsterminate trash beasts.
Facing up towards the sky, or well, what is supposed to be the sky. Just clouds, layers of thick clouds, even if the bottom layer shifted and you'd think youd get a ray of light shining through or peek at what was above them.
Nope. No matter where on the ground you go. The clouds are an opposing force nothing gets through.
Always looking down on him.
Groaning, Follo rubs his hands down his face. “This isn't why I came out here. Better head back soon anyways.”
Even after saying that statement aloud, Follo sat there for a bit longer. The breeze shifted slightly to bring the dry gritty smell of the Penta dessert with it. At least that didn't smell as bad.
So swinging his legs off the couch, using his inertia to bring the rest of his body up and sitting. He looked out on the trash piles. His gaze filters through the shadows. His mind is just trying to make up movements, nothing ever comes this close to HQ, it has always been safe.
In no rush, Follo climbs down the trash pile and starts the slow walk back, almost everything and nothing on his mind at the same time. Passing by the small landmarks that tell him which direction to head back to HQ, which at this point, if Follo ever got lost, climb the biggest looking trash pile and look around, the cliffs that surround the building are easy to see this close.
When off in his own world, a small scratching sound hits his ears and stops all his thoughts. Movements come to a halt as the scrabling noises continue.
It's coming from a trash pile, approaching fast! Loud pants can be heard above the running, not attempting to be quiet in the least.
Finally the noises stop ricocheting off the piles for Follo to find out what direction its coming from.
Behind!
Spinning around and trying to grab his hammer in his movements but a sudden blunt force runs into him.
Grabbing at his neck, he has to call Gris! He'd be able to gather Givers to come out and help.
Fingers meet his skin as he remembers, the device that is always there, is gone. Taken off when he laid down.
All of a sudden Follo wishes someone had been in the hallways to see him leave. Someone had checked in on him as he walked with his head down. Wished someone had followed protocol and told others they are leaving and what time to expect them back by.
That someone was Follo, all of a sudden worried Tomme and Gris would come by his room knocking in the morning. Hours too late to send a search party out.
Fuck he can't just go down like this not without becoming a Giver. Grabbing a hold of the beast, Follo is not met with the usual texture.
Expecting hard metal and stabby bits of trash on the impact. Instead a soft pliable hair like material as he holds to it, not be thrown back. Follo succeeded only in thrashing and falling on top of the creature.
Warmth that wasn't his own tells him this is no trash beasts at all! It is a living breathing creature! Especially as it lets out a yelp with Follo now crushing it beneath him. Followed by a sharp flash of pain up his leg. Before combined struggling and Follo’s body hits the hard ground, knocking air from his lungs.
Sending up dust in the struggle, it's hard to regain a breath with the extra pollutants floating around now. Even though the glint of red blood now falls from a rip in his pants is easy to be seen, or his mind is supplying him what it's supposed to look like over all the pain and shock it is trying to combat with adrenaline.
Stand! He has to stand!
Even if he is relieved it isn't a trash beast. A living beast is still a threat. Quickly, fighting through the pain, regaining his breath and rising up into a crouch. Without full use of a leg, training kicks in to stay crouched. Using one arm to help hold him up and be ready to push off the ground to evade attacks. Hammer in the other, ready to defend or attack back if needed.
Looking up, the beast stands close, looking down at him. Not moving any closer, but also not away.
A white so unnatural for the surface of the ground, and eye's glare into his. They are a red that resembles the blood that drips from its teeth.
My blood!
Eyes flitter quickly left and right, trying to find an escape route, get back to HQ. Bracing his muscles, reading to throw himself into a hobbled run. If he makes it back it won't matter if the leg gets more injured in the run, Eishia will patch him up like new.
If he makes it back, Follo grips his hammer tightly.
They both move at the same time, Follo throwing himself away but the beast moves quicker. Pinning its ears and attacking him again, paw slamming down on his back. Instantly stopping every escape plan he had mapped out.
Gris is just gonna have to forgive him for not making it back to his room, but if he injures the beast, maybe it'll be slow enough the others can catch it and figure out what happened to him. If they don't think he gave up, to run back home to the northward.
Giving up, just like Alen.
That name only a select few Follo had told about, and only one knows he's the one who gave Follo his hammer, Corvus.
Follo told the leader of the Cleaners everything, from his childhood dreams that fizzled out, only to be light again when the small group of Cleaners had ventured into the north's little city and protected them against a huge Trash Beast that had breached their protective walls. A Giver in training took it down like it was just a pizza needing to be sliced.
Eye's closing bracing for the bite from the beast's jaws again as it shifted above him. Please make it quick. Is all Follo can wish for as its claws dig into Follo's back holding him still.
A noise cuts across the silence, loud and unmistakable.
A low melody howls out.
Loud
Demanding
Magical
Follo has never heard something so beautiful sound so… desperate? His leg starts to tingle and can barely shift his head to the side and see a slight glow as the pain fizzles away.
The song doesn't stop as it changes, can feel the vibrations throught his back, the connection of its paw holding him down. Now that Follo is looking at them, he can see the paws are all black with scars poking out between the fur that is warped and spiraling.
Unable to look away, tracing the limb up the body and seeing the beast's head thrown up as it runs out of breath and looks down directly at him again. Crimson red eyes softening in a way that seems like it's conveying an apology.
No time to look more into before it pushes away from him, bolting between trash piles and out of view.
Leaving Follo behind, laying on the ground, unable to move in shock that he was left alive.
Shaking arms pull underneath him as he pushes up and drags his uninjured leg up. Pushing into a crouch to get up, waiting for the jolt of agony from his other leg as it moves along with his body.
The pain never comes, flexing the muscles that should have been torn open by jaws, they react as if nothing had even happened. Follo finds that standing and walking on the once injured leg to be just as good as Eishia's healing.
Wait, this is no time to be wondering, that thing could still be out there! Taking off in a run, once he gets his bearings, lucky to be at the fork where the tire bench is. Running for a few minutes till Follo slows down, breathing stabalizing quickly as he looks back and nothing following him. No loud trampling or breathing like before, maybe it really did run off.
What was that anyways?
It was alive, had flesh and teeth and eyes that looked, instead of following sound like a trash beast would. Not to mention there were no scraps of trash clinging to it. Tomme might know, or if he can talk to Corvus next time they are around. Those two had the most knowledge about the ground. Plus did it have access to anima like humans? Is that how it healed his leg?
More importantly, only domesticated animals and scavanger birds survive on the ground.
Keeping his ears open, Follo walks the rest of the way until the front doors of the building can be made out. A scent of acrid smoke fills his lungs. Coughing while looking around, a smoke wisp wraps around a pillar, looking harder, Enjin leans in the shadow. Cigarette between his lips as once again a pair of eyes stare at him.
“Everything alright?” Voice rough with sleep as if he just woke up, Enjin moves into the light when Follo gets closer.
But Follo pauses at the question, does he want to tell Enjin everything and get the whole base stirred up and worried, when he was all fine. No, it ran away, most likely never to come back hopefully. “Yeah, mind was too loud and took a later night walk.” Gesturing to the trash fields while wrinkling his nose as Enjin got closer, a light perfume also drifting his way. Why all of a sudden his nose feels like its on fire with the intensity of smells.
Letting out a hum of acknowledgement, Enjin eyes look him over, pausing as he jestures to his leg. “That looks a bit bad.”
Glancing down, Follo sees the rip in his pants with blood clinging to the fabric. “I tripped over some trash while too deep in thought. It just bled a lot, was gonna patch it up before bed and see Eishia in the morning. Nothing to be worried about, just looks knarly. Not even limping!” Shifting his weight to the leg and showing no reaction at all.
Enjin just shrugs, sucking in another lungful of smoke before blowing it out his nose. “Alright, go and get some sleep once your take care of yourself.”
Internal relief, he sends a smile Enjin's way and grabs the handle as it unlocks. Shikage was always on night duty, only letting Cleaners, Supporters, and welcomed guests inside. Locking out anyone unknown.
A tattooed hand catches the door as it was about to close behind him. “Hey Follo, one last thing.” Golden eyes flicker from him to the trash field where he had come from. “Did you hear that howl a bit ago? It woke me up and was debating on going out there to investigate.”
The sudden realization that Enjin must've woken up and had a feeling. That's why he was down here smoking, fully dressed, and ready in case something went wrong.
If only Follo was a fraction like Enjin. Would he already be a Giver like him? The umbrella hooked over his hand, unassuming to most, but always ready to be flipped up, activated, and used for either attacking or protecting. If only Follo was useful and not getting injured. “No, a few crow calls and trash being blown by the wind, that was it.”
“Have a good night then.” The door closes off the outside from the inside. Heart stammering, Follo walks to his bedroom. Only to instantly pull his pants leg up and inspect that his leg is in fact completely healed. Only the ruined fabric shows that he was once injured.
Changing his clothes over to something cleaner than blood and dust. He'll deep clean and patch them back up tomorrow. Maybe asking August to help him out. Then swing by to talk to Tomme in the library where she resides outside of missions and training. As well as go see Eishia to double check that his leg is fine, and if Enjin checks in with his team member about his health.
Officially zapped of all energy, physically collapsing in his bed, mind short circuiting after everything that happened. Follo passes out once his head hits the pillow.
Only to wake up in a dream that doesn't feel like a dream as he looks down at himself. With a body that feels like it's perfectly his but not as well.